


Alive

by Singing_Violin



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s06e18 Milagro, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singing_Violin/pseuds/Singing_Violin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why was Scully really crying at the end of Milagro?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The X-Files characters and universe are not mine.

Mulder thinks I'm crying because I've had a fright and almost died. Again.

He should know me better than that.

I'm far older and wiser than the young agent who collapsed in his arms after being captured by the hair and nail fetishist. I don't break that easily anymore.

If it were just another near-miss, I'd be brushing myself off and telling him that I'm fine.

But here I am, sobbing in his arms as passionately as I ever have, and he has no clue why.

I grab onto him for dear life, because that is what this is all about.

Life.

I'm alive.

I shouldn't be. I wasn't, a moment ago. Ken Naciamento ripped my still-beating heart out of my chest. The blood is still there to prove it.

I was dead. I couldn't feel my heartbeat because I was missing the organ itself; I saw it in front of me, in the hands of my killer, and then I lost consciousness.

When I came to, someone was looming over me, and I startled, only to realize, moments later, that it was just my partner.

My partner, who will die one day, and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. "Agent Scully is already in love," Padgett had said. And destined to lose that love forever.

And that is why I sob, now, grabbing onto him as if my life depends on it.

Because I truly do not know what I will do once he is gone.

I remember his words in the hallway just outside, a lifetime ago. "I don't know if I want to do this without you. I don't even know if I can."

If you only knew: it is not you who will be doing this without me. It is I you.

I panic, now, because I finally believe Clyde Bruchman was right, that Alfred Fellig took my death, and it scares me more than anything in this world.

How else do I live, now, after my heart was removed from my chest?

Occam's razor. It's the only explanation left.

And that means that one day he'll be gone, and I'll still be here.

I'm scared, Mulder. Not because I almost died, but because I didn't. Because I can't. Because I won't. And because you will.

"Calm down, please, Scully," he whispers in my ear. "You'll make yourself sick."

The thought only makes me sob harder. _Sick_. I wonder if I'll ever get sick again. I remember being so sick with cancer that I thought I was going to die. Is it wrong that I miss those days, when I was sure that I would be leaving Mulder behind, rather than the other way around?

I grab him more intensely, pulling him towards me as close as I can, clawing at his back as if I could bring him inside me, preserve him for eternity. He is so gentle, so worried...so clueless.

How can I tell him that I am really fine this time...and that that's the problem?

He probably thinks I'm rattled because Padgett got into my head, invaded my privacy...and he did, but it's inconsequential. Padgett will eventually die. He might be dead already. He's a temporary problem.

Or worse...Mulder may think I'm behaving this way because Padgett wrote it. That I'm merely acting as the fictional version of me in Padgett's warped universe. But I didn't "do the naked pretzel" with "the stranger" and he's not controlling me now either.

Whatever Mulder thinks, he's holding me as tenderly as he ever has, and I am cherishing every moment of it, because it can't last.

I have no idea how I'm going to explain this to him when I calm down, or for that matter, how I'm going to calm down.

For the first time in my life, I have proof that I have literally nothing to fear...and for some reason, that revelation is scarier than all the monsters, aliens, telekinesis, and other paranormal phenomena we've ever faced.

I told Alfred Fellig that there was no such thing as too much life.

I'm afraid I was wrong.

I am going to live forever, and suddenly I don't want to.

I shiver at the thought.

"You're in shock," Mulder says to me, picking me up off the floor.

I don't let go. I can't. He doesn't know that, even if I am, it's not life-threatening. That nothing, from here on out, can threaten my life.

He sets me down on the couch, ever-so-gently, and pushes me away so he can look into my face. "Scully, please," he begs. "Say something."

Just a few months ago, I'd be mortified to be completely broken down in front of him, like this, but now, it doesn't seem like it matters. He is temporary too.

I open my mouth. The only thing that comes to my tongue is a name, his name, and it comes out in a shuddering breath between cries. "Mulder."

It seems to calm him slightly, though I haven't stopped sobbing. I don't know if I can stop sobbing.

He rubs a finger across my cheek, wiping away my tears.

"Are you in pain?" he asks.

I can't speak, but I shake my head no.

Finally, "What's wrong, then?"

The moment of truth. He wants the truth. Can he handle the truth? I obviously can't.

I take as deep a breath as I can manage in my current state. "I...I don't know," I lie.

I'm not sure if he can tell I'm dissembling, but he crushes my head into his chest and strokes my hair. "Oh, Scully."

But lying, somehow, has shocked me out of my haze of panic, and I find my tears are slowing and my breaths becoming more even.

Can I learn to live with this truth?

Maybe I can.

He leaves me for a moment, then returns with a thick blanket and a warm, wet washcloth. He drapes the blanket around my shoulders and searches my eyes for permission before carefully unbuttoning my shirt. Silently, I watch and desperately try to commit every detail to memory as he wipes the blood from my torso and neck.

I vow never to forget his name.

 


End file.
